The Neon Bible
by KillerSinnerWhore
Summary: "Our love is God," he said, reaching down, taking her hand in his. "C'mon, let's go for a ride." But growing up like he did who could ever make Boyd Crowder believe in God? What were Raylan and Boyd like as teenagers? Click here and see. Set in 1987. Pre-show. Boyd/OFC poss. Boyd/OFC/Raylan in separate instances depending on what you and the dirty ideas in my head tell me to do.
1. Hotter'n June in July

**A/N: I was watching Justified earlier and I couldn't help but notice that both Raylan and Boyd are super sexy and awesome (one bad, the other badder), and this is what came right off the bat. I *did* proof read, it's meant to be written the way it's writ. It's in Southern/Kentuckian dialect to help with the realism/scene setting/development/consistency. Reviews will bend the story in whichever direction. Maybe one of 'em? Maybe t'other? Both, mayhaps? Let me know what you want, peeps. . . I do not own 'Justified' or any of the canonical characters. I just like to play with 'em like I do. Pretty tame seein' how this's the first chapter, but later on it gets pretty graphic and blue. 'Specially Boyd's behavior, of course. The title comes from a classic southern novel called 'The Neon Bible' by John Kennedy Toole. It's amazing, I highly recommend it.**

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It was the summer that Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder were seventeen years of age. They were working together in the fields in front of Dr. Freeman Montegomery's estate. Dr. Montegomery was never a serious farmer, but as Boyd had said to Raylan when he'd posed the query, "A true southerner never lets his fields go unattended to."

The hot July sun beat down on them without mercy. By now the two of them were stripped down to their wife-beaters, and Boyd had almost taken his off before he remembered himself and where he was (but rather was reminded by Raylan, because _he_ was the one who simply did not care). Raylan's white stetson hung on the fence post next to him. The two stopped, leaning on their hoes to wipe their brows.

"It is hotter than the Devil's asshole out here!" Raylan breathed, looking down to get the sun out of his eyes for a moment.

"Shit, you ain't kiddin', friend. I'm sweatin' like a whore in church. What time is it anyhow?" Boyd replied, taking his breath in short bursts.

"I'd say. . ." Raylan shielded his eyes and looked up at the sun, attempting to gauge the time, "'bout half-past noon, maybe quarter of."

"Oh, good. Then it's about time for our break then, in'nit?" Boyd responded, dropping the handle of his hoe. "She still there?" he asked the boy working the fields with him, spinning away; pulling off his gloves, he stuffed them in the back pocket of his Levi's.

"Hmm?" Raylan hummed, already distracted. His brow was furrowed as he regarded the girl under the tree with her nose in a book, intently. "Yeah, June's still there. Reading. . . As usual."

"How long have we been workin' here and I gotta keep askin' you for the time, cuz she ain't never look at a watch instead of a damn book," Boyd groaned, whining his discontent. He turned to look at her as well.

Juniper Montegomery. She was sweet sixteen, with sunny blonde hair, and baby blues that could put a puppy dog's hungry eyes to shame. She had her hair pulled up into a quick'n'messy bun, a couple of long loose-curled locks free and stray. She read her book with such resolute peace beneath the shade of the old oak tree.

"I reckon, what, three weeks?" Raylan countered, quickly looking to Boyd for him to confirm or deny his guestimation.

Boyd nodded slowly, "Yeah, that sounds 'bout right."

"Well if you wanna talk to her so bad, go ahead and talk to her whiles we on break, Crowder," Raylan teased him.

"And what if I ain't got nuthin' to _say_, Givens-"

"Well that'd be a first," Raylan interrupted Boyd with a sarcastic cough.

"Asides, you're the one that knows her better," Boyd argued, not taking his eyes off the young girl entrenched in her own world under the tree, as he bickered with the other strapping boy that was farming with him.

"Psht, barely. . . Wait a cotton pickin' minute. We both know her. What kinda punches you tryin' to pull?" Raylan scowled at the Crowder boy standing next him, not appreciating Boyd tryin' to bamboozle him. Raylan stayed quiet a second and Boyd didn't respond. Raylan just leaned against the hoe handle. "You're the one that likes her. . ."

Boyd turned his head slowly to look at Raylan, and Raylan returned his gaze. "Uh, uh, uh," he tisked his amigo, "ain't your daddy ever teach you nuthin'? Never try to shit a shitter, Raylan. . . I can tell by the look in your eye that you like her too."

"Shut up," Raylan muttered back, looking away from his friend. He quickly changed the subject. "I seen her at school doin' the _same_ thing," bein' a good ol' boy, when he said 'thing' it twanged out like 'thang', "ain't hardly a social butterfly."

Boyd turned his head and stared a Raylan a moment, a bit annoyed, "Well this ain't school, Raylan. . ."

"Arright," Raylan conceded, biting the middle finger of his gloved hand, pulling it up with his teeth. He pursed his lips and blasted out a loud, sharp whistle at her- throwing his glove for good measure to get her attention. His aim was good and his discarded glove landed square on the page she was about to turn.

June's head snapped up quickly, but she wasn't looking at them, she was staring out in front of her, then she looked up in the tree, confused.

"Hey, June!" Raylan called out to her, blowing a short whistle once more.

Her head snapped sideways and she looked out at the two brawny elder fellas out in the sun. June was back in the real world now, and she smiled when she recognized them as the oldest

son of Bo Crowder and Raylan Givens, both of whom she knew a lil' bit from her childhood and school. 'Specially Raylan. His mama was a friend of her mama's. A brilliant smile spread across her soft pink lips, and she flashed them her two straight rows of pearly whites. She raised her arm and waved widely at them.

Raylan spoke out of the side of his mouth to Boyd, "A thoroughly nervous creature-d'you see her jump when I hucked my glove over?"

Boyd simply nodded, not taking his eyes off the young girl.

"What'chu want, Givens?" June hollered from under her tree.

"Hmmm. . ." he quirked an eyebrow and pretended to think, "I dunno. . . World Peace. A black on black camero. Ten million dollars. . . But for now I'd settle for a drink o' water if you don't mind-"

"O'course!" June replied, folding down the corner of her page to save her place, then dropping her book to spring up and sprint into the house.

Without turning his head, Raylan knew Boyd was eyeballin' him based on account of he could feel the other man's stare. "What?"

"Huh-" Boyd scoffed, tonguing the inside of his cheek, and toeing the dirt with his boot, "I think we both know you're far too cantankerous to be wishin' for world peace," he commented pointlessly, meandering off.

Boyd's remark made Raylan smile. "Where're you gettin' off to?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, mother. . .Can I go for a jaunt?" Boyd quipped over his shoulder.

"Sheesh- and you're callin' me cantankerous," Raylan mumbled to himself under his breath.

Boyd wandered off and left Raylan standing alone. Raylan just smiled and laughed to himself, lifting his white Stetson off the fencepost and placing it back on his head.

After just a few minutes, June backed out the screen door, all loaded up with a tray that had three tall glasses of syrupy brown liquid, each with a sprig of mint in 'em - and biscuits with strawberry jam. She sauntered over to Raylan and held the tray up.

"Did I do you one better or what?" she questioned rhetorically, extending her arms full of Southern hospitality.

"If one of them biscuits sees fit to make itself mine, I'd say that'd count as two," he replied anyway, taking a sip from the glass he'd picked up. His eyes went big and he sucked on his lip, hissing in surprise, "Lordy- That's good sweet tea!"

June looked to either side behind Raylan. She started to get that patented doe-eyed confused look of hers, "Hey, Raylan. Where'd your friend get off to?"

"Who?" Raylan asked quickly, taking another sip from his glass. Each time he took a sip he held the cup out in front of his face and examined it like he couldn't believe how good it was.

"Y'know, that Crowder kid," June clarified, blowing her bangs up out of her eyes.

"Oh, 'scuse me, it was the word 'friend' that confused me," Raylan joked, picking up one of the biscuits and taking a bite, forgetting his manners a moment he exclaimed, "Holy shit! This's the best tea'n'biscuit I ever had. Tell your mama she's amazin' for me, will ya?"

June cracked a cock-eyed smile and gave a little laugh, readjusting the heavy tray in her arms, "I don't see why for, she didn't do nothin'."

"Are you tellin' me _you_ made these?" Raylan asked in awe, already halfway through his and reaching for another.

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded, her hair shaking into her eyes again. June gave a little exhasperated sigh and blew them back again. "Right, so where's your companion, Raylan Givens?"

Not having paid attention to where Boyd'd gotten to, Raylan panned around to help her out, then saw him. He gave a quick nod, saying, "I believe he's taken up your fast-abandon spot."

June turned around, seeing the other boy under her tree, her book in hand, reading as she'd been. She wheeled back around to Raylan. "You best take another biscuit before I walk off."

"Oh, no, June, I couldn't possibly. I've already had two-" Raylan rattled in false modesty.

"You're a growin' boy have yer fill. But in five seconds I'mma start walkin' to give him his and I ain't gon' bother with you no more," she jokingly bristled back. Ever since they'd met, June always seemed to enjoy pretending to be mad at Raylan, although she seldom ever was. Damn near every time it made Raylan smile.

"Well arright, if you insist. . . June," he tugged the brim of his hat, tipping it to her in appreciation, "much obliged," he tacked on, accepting another roll from the tray she extended to him.

"You're a very welcome," June chirped, turning on her heel an taking a few steps towards the fella under the oak tree.

"I'd bet my bottom dollar you'd always bother with me, though!" Raylan called after June, a smile across his lips.

June stopped in her track so fast for a minute, she almost sloshed the sweet tea over the brim. A bright and giddy smile spread across her face and glowed there. She had herself a 'be still my beating heart' moment, then strode confidently towards the boy in the shade of her tree. Raylan tilted his head and watched her sway away in her tight lil' daisy dukes.


	2. Under the Oak Tree

**A/N: This is what I imagine June to look like - Hope ya'll enjoy this next part! Please review, it helps me learn. . . **

/post/VqLCcfKpQ1/love-this-color-and-curls

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"Can I offer you somethin' to wet your whistle?" June inquired, closing in on Boyd Crowder seated at her favorite tree's trunk.

Boyd looked up and saw June standing about a foot away from him. Raised right, never short on discipline - he stood at the presence of a lady. After his Southern acknowledgement, they both sat down in the grass.

"Much obliged," Boyd said as he accepted a glass from her.

The consistency of Dixie boys made June smile. They'd never wanna hear it, but they sounded kinda similarly when they said it. This time, now that she was seated instead of shouldering the tray, she herself took a glass. Boyd silently toasted her, clinking his glass off hers. Boyd drunk deep. June just took a tiny sip.

"Do I know you from around?" June finally asked. She didn't know if it was Raylan's remark that had her walking on air, or this dark horse mystery man reading under her tree, but she was drawn all the same.

"Ahh," Boyd nodded, taking another more couth sip from his glass, "We've howdied, but not met," he drawled, extending a hand to her, "Boyd Crowder."

"Yeah, I've seen you around school. Stormin' the halls mostly. Folks get outta yer way quick. You're kind of an ornery individual, aren't ya?" She slid her soft dainty hand into his rougher, much larger one. He had a workin' man's hands, she noted to herself mentally.

"Ornery? Nah. . . There just ain't nothin' much there worth my time or enthusiasm, and nary one much worth spendin' it with," after noticing her crestfallen expression he gave her a wink, "save a couple souls o'course."

She pursed her lips and nodded, feeling like that last bit left room for hope to spring forth for him yet. June remained silent for a moment, entertaining ideas in her head.

Boyd took the moment to pull his packet of cigarettes out the pocket of his jeans. Hitting the bottom of the box, he shook one up and closed his lips around the end, simultaneously pulling his Dixie flag zippo out of the opposite pocket. He snapped his fingers opening the lighter's lid with a trick of his digits. Then showed off another hidden talent by bringing his fingers down, snapping it on the tumbler. June watched in amazement as the flame rose up and lit the end of his Lucky. Boyd spoke out of the corner of his mouth, still gazing at the now smoking cherry, "So're you gonna tell me your name now, or did you forget yours and now're fixin' to take mine."

June giggled, thinkin' she hadn't talked to a boy as clever since any time she talked to Raylan. . . perhaps cleverer."June Montegomery," she returned, "howdied, but not met. . . I like that- I see you've picked up my book, Boyd Crowder."

"Indeed I did. . . In a land of mo-rons he who cracks a book is king. . . I hope you don't mind, I assure you I didn't lose your place, " Boyd responded, setting her book down to receive the plate with a couple of biscuits on it from her. He set the plate on his lap and licked some jam from his fingers, "The Sound and the Fury, huh? And how does Mister Faulkner find you?"

"Oh, my God. . ." June sigh breathlessly, "he's amazing. I understand why they say it's his first true work of genius. It's clever and tragic, and so. . . _real_."

"'s this on a summer reading list for school? I'd think this was beyond your year," Boyd reacted conversationally, biting into one of the biscuits she'd given him. "Hot damn that's good," he mumbled to himself; then said to her, ducking his head to catch her eye, "Thank you, June."

She shivered like a rabbit'd run over her grave. She knew she'd just met him, but him using her name like he done. . . it just made this conversation that much more _intimate_. June'd never been able to talk to a boy about classic literature before. No one, not even the librarian had taken an interest in what book she was reading. It was a spark. June nervously tucked a loose curl behind her left ear, "N-nah, I'm just readin' for my own benefit. Bookworm, kna'mean?"

"I do. . ." he answered, one finger curled over the top of his smoke, he pulled it from his lips and blew out a thick train of gray.

"Hey-" Boyd finally looked at her, after she interjected to grab his attention, "You think I could have one o' them?" June put forth meekly.

"I think your daddy would attempt to beat my ass 'til he starts breathin' heavy if I do. . ." He looked away again, but noticed her expression change out the corner of his eye like she'd gotten her hand slapped, "but you can take a puff offa mine right here if you want to." Boyd took the cigarette from between his lips and extended the smoking cancer stick, holding it by the unfiltered end with two fingers.

June gingerly took it, blushing rosy pink around her cheekbones when her fingers brushed his, lingering a time, as she took the cigarette from his hand. She looked down at the ground, then back up at him, on her toes 'cuz he was watching her. Bringing the cigarette to her lips, she took a hard drag- never having actually smoked a cigarette before, but it _did_ seem cool, and _he_ was doing it after all. The smoke irritated her lungs, and they stung with her overzealous inexperience with breathin' fire. Immediately, she began coughing, her eyes watered up a bit.

"Oh _shit_," Boyd groaned, thinkin' he'd really put his foot in it now. He pat her back lightly and handed her his tea, not thinking on that she had her own glass. "Gosh, you don't sound half as good as a coal miner's canary. C'mon, lil' girl, I think you should pass that off a'for you burn yourself," he drawled, reaching for his cigarette back.

June jerked her hand away quickly. Feelin' stupid and wanting for redemption. He was all James Dean and what he just said made her feel like a silly kid. "No!" she choked out, then coughed thrice voluntarily, she smoothed her voice, wishing to be cool in that awkward moment, "No. Gimme a break, Crowder, 's only my first try. I doubt if I'll choke my death on it."

"Well alright," Boyd said, impressed with her determination and her stubborness. This timid creature had hidden assets (a goodly some, as he'd noticed when she had her coughing fit, when the neck of her tanktop drooped- as her spine curled, leaning her forward). He gestured for her to give it another go, watching her intently.

June told her mind to steady her hand and she brought it to her lips again. Boyd pretended that his breath did not hitch when her plush pink lips parted slowly to accomodate the cigarette once more. _'Girl looks good with somethin' in her mouth,'_ Boyd thought to himself. June took a much gentler drag off the cigarette, this time her lungs expanded right-wise, and she knew what to expect. Flicking the ash off the end, she held the smoke in her a second, before blowing out a long chain. She felt older, sophisticated. . . like it was possible to be like she was some of the time all of the time. _Cool_.

"Arright, now give it back before your daddy come out and paint your backporch red. 'Bout 'magine a good girl such as yourself would be in a mess of trouble if she got caught playin' with lung darts." And with that he plucked the cigarette out of her hand.

"Boyd! Just what in the _hell_ do you think you're doin'? Stop tryin' to give that lil' girl cancer and come help me- this'n's gonna be a tough row to hoe today," Raylan called over, his hat back on the fencepost and his hand shadowing his eyes as he looked out at them.

Boyd opened his mouth to speak, blowing out some more brimstone. His eyebrows raised and the corners of his mouth turned down in an mask of surprise when the voice next heard was not his own, but hers. And her voice was _strong_, and confident, and womanly. Wiley in it's way, and sassy as a pussycat in heat, not at all the sound he expected to bubble out of such a small creature he'd thus far gauged as entirely timid.

"Even a fish don't get caught if he don't open his big mouth, Raylan Givens, so hush! And I ain't a lil' girl. . . I'm a full blown, bloomin' woman. I've filled out and am a far cry of when you first met me and I's a child! I can make a choice'r two of my own, thank you!" June eyed Boyd mischievously and gave a small, musical laugh, "See, I ain't so good afterall."

"Not bein' so good don't make you inherently _bad_, okay?" He told her softly, like it was a secret the world didn't know that he wanted to share with just her. He thumbed his nose and smiled wide'n bright. "Next time I'll get ones with filters just incase you find yourself craving another taste. . ." he drawled heavily, wicked wit and innuendo on his tongue," Y'know, I'm readin' _Sons and Lovers_ right now. If you like this'n here, I'm sure you'd enjoy 'at. Now, I know it's no Faulkner but D.H. Lawrence has' own merits. I hope you don't consider it disloyal to test 'at. . . I'd be more'n willing to let you read it when I'm through," Boyd smooth talked, having finished one of the biscuits, he set the plate aside to give the girl his full attention.

"How far along're you?" June asked, smiling down at her knees. She found it hard to look the charismatically dark boy in the eye. She pulled her hair down and shook her head before smoothing it back.

Boyd couldn't help but catch her scent on the warm summer breeze. She smelled like cinnamon and sugar cookies, and he could not truthfully say that he did not like it. He dragged down the last fraction of his tobacco, and tossed the stub.

"I'mma bout half way. I'll have it for you day after next," Boyd promised her, fingering the rim of his glass, trying not to dwell on her smell a'for it drove him insane.

"Wowee," she sigh to herself, still playing with her golden locks, "that soon? I'd rather you not rush. I can wait."

"Let not your heart be troubled, I'mma quick read'n a faster study," the boy quipped. He sniffed then said, "asides, my momma always taught me to _never_ keep a lady waiting."

"Your mama sounds wise," the girl said to him, clasping and unclasping her hands in various ways around the bottom of her glass.

"That she _was_," he said back, then a mournful silence washed over him and her alike.

Boyd's head lolled back and he rolled his eyes, "Got-dammit, Raylan, quit sneakin' round the oak tree and just _take the damn biscuit!_" Then to June he said in a drawn out casual way, "I swear, he's worse'n an old dog under the table at suppertime."

June peeked around, but didn't see the taller boy in the white hat. Just when her head was turned opposite, Raylan popped out from behind the tree, nearest her, saying, "Don't mind if I do. . ." And he snuck his hand up onto the tray, snagging Boyd's other biscuit.

Even though Boyd'd been ever-observant and gave notice, Raylan'd still startled June so bad she nearly jumped into Boyd's lap for protection. She fell short and against him awkwardly, her hair falling in her face. Boyd threw his hands up and caught her. Once his hands were on her skin he felt her shaking.

"Whoa, whoa, girl. You alright there, honey? My, you're jumpier'n a long-tail cat in a room full o' rockin' chairs." He guessed her confidence came and went on the wind. He found that fact quite interesting.

One of Boyd's hands was around her right bicep, the other clamped around the ridge of her left-side ribcage. His hand on her bare skin shocked through her like a bug zapper, then connected in location to his other hand. The concern on his voice was evident and it warmed Juniper's heart. The last time she felt the prickling sensation that emanated through her whole body from her bicep, was when she was twelve and (a then fourteen year old) Raylan held her hand when he walked her home from school. Sure she'd been kissed twice by two different boys, but neither of them made her feel like she was vibrating.

June tried to right herself as quickly as possible and not to be deterred by the distraction of his hands on her. After she sat up, she shook her hair out of her face. Her eyes locked with the Crowder kid's when she looked up, and she fell into 'em for a quick minute. Her hands. . . '_oh shit!'_ she squeaked internally. She was just remembering them now, and they were braced square on his taught, muscular chest, where she'd thrown her own hands trying to catch herself. June took them back quickly once she'd become awares, and she looked away sheepishly. Begrudgingly Boyd removed his hands from her person.

Raylan was rolling on the grass behind the tree, jam smeared on the corners of his lovely lips lit with a smile. He howled with laughter, almost feeling as if his ribs would break.

"Shut up, Raylan!" June growled at him. Damn, she'd been able to show Boyd only a second of her true face when she wasn't a mess of nerves and that Raylan Givens o'course had done gone and spoilt it all. She felt like a stupid kid again. She scowled in his direction fiercely.

"Lordy, lordy! Hahaha!" he screamed in laughter, eyes screwed shut and still rollin' on the lawn, "scared you so bad you should check yer hair for white. . . and I ain't even do nuthing!"

June lost her bashfulness with agitation. Bracing herself with a palm on the ground, she pushed herself up and stomped over to Raylan in her white fringe'n silver cowgirl boots. "_Raylan Givens!_ You stop teasin' me right now!" She demanded, and when he didn't she kicked his shin with the toe of her boot. But the Givens boy just kept laughing 'til tears sprang to his eyes. "You stop that right now! That ain't funny, scarin' the bejeezus out of me!" June's voice was upset, but consistent. She moved the foot of her other boot and planted it on the ground so that she was standing over him; her soles holdin' her to the earth like his hipbones were East and West. When he did not relent, she dropped down and straddled him- quickly beginning to slap at him with a flurry of her tiny hands. Raylan laughed harder still, but barred his arms to block'n shield his face from June's onslaught.

Even though she were'nt his, and he told himself this- Boyd Crowder could not help but feel a mite of jealousy over Raylan's off-chance grade-A position. '_Mayhaps I should've scared her,'_ he thought, watching them.

"Arright, arright! I give! Uncle!" Raylan called out, his laughter petering out. He reached up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her assault. "I'm sorry, Junebug. I didn't mean to upset your applecart, nor exploit your misfortune of reaction. Forgive me please," he charmed, a slow smile spreading across his gorgeous face. His chestnut hair hung in his face from all the rolling and shaking.

"This is the last time if'n I do," June huffed, put out by his antics, but as ever- not fully capable of being mad at him. "Lemme go!"

He released her wrists and put his hands up as if surrendering under a gun.

June jumped up and paced over a patch of grass betwixt the boys. Her arms were crossed, but she couldn't keep up her charade of being poisoned with annoyance for long.

Boyd coughed, drawing attention to himself, "Raylan, we'd best get back to breakin' ground," he said lowly to his friend.

A small smile played on June's lips as both boys picked themselves up and headed back over. "Hey!" She called after 'em.

They both looked over their shoulder at her, catching eachother in the eyes as they did. Boyd just quirked a brow in reply, whereas Raylan responded velveteenly, "Yes, Miss June?"

"My daddy's gon' leave in a lil' bit for his shift at the hospital. Y'all wanna go swimmin' after he takes off?" she shoved her hands in her pockets and bounced on her toes, waiting for a reply.

Raylan and Boyd again regarded each other. Boyd quick'n simply shrugged. Raylan drew out a groany, "Eh. . . I don't know about that one, kid. Your daddy's payin' us to work."

"What're you doin'? 's not like her daddy cain't afford it, Ray-" Boyd jeered, elbowing his buddy in the ribs.

"Well, I didn't say that _you_ couldn't go, shit, I ain't your mama- I don't cheat people who's payin' me to do them a job. And her daddy's payin' me to till," Raylan gritted out to just Boyd. Then Raylan raised an eyebrow warily and looked his friend in the eye. "What d'you care if I go anyways? She puts a twinkle in your eye, and mine don't exactly go dead when I lookit her," he cautiously whispered, then spit on the ground to his right, his jaw tightening thereafter.

Boyd gave him a wry smile, his gleaming white teeth could've blinded a bat at night, and in the sun they had a specific glare. "The thrill is in the chase," he spoke softly, bringing his lips closer to Raylan's ear.

"You are one sick pup, Boyd-" Raylan began in a groan, but he didn't talk any further when June'd piped up from her spot, trying to sway their votes.

"I _promise_ I won't tell my daddy, and you've never dared tell me no when I've asked something of you Raylan- tell me true, how often is it that I do?"

Raylan sucked in a breath through his teeth, throwing his eyes her way for just a millisecond, before lookin' away real quick, "Reckon. . ." he sigh, "not hardly never, June. . ." and ended in a groan.

"'Xactly," June drew out, continuing to bounce on her toes in anticipation, "C'n we just do this'n easy, Ray-ray? Instead of bitchin' and bickerin' for an hour. The day's hot _now_, and the water'll be fast evaporatin'."

Raylan looked up at the sky, turning to face her direction. His leg quiverin' quick, the toe of his left boot doing a lonely tap dance. His fingers danced as well, as he set himself to tapping his antsy thigh, "I highly doubt it, but I get your point."

"See, I'm makin' more sense'n ever if you's agreein' with me," she smiled back, tapping her own foot as she was set to waitin' on him.

At that moment Boyd'd just lit up another cigarette and by happenstance, Dr. Montegomery rushed out the house, obviously late judgin' by his quick feet and downcast eyes. As he was sittin' into his car, he looked up and fixed Boyd and his cigarette with an icy stare that put a prickle in the boy's spine. Boyd caught a hinky feeling from the older man, and somewhat either rebellious or disrespectful- he pursed his lips and blew a smoke ring, closing one eye so that inside the ring the Doctor's head woulda been a bull's eye.

Raylan stooped to pick up the yew handle of his hoe, then idly tilled the earth beneath their feet. The sun beat down on them like the mouth of hell was breathin' on them from above instead of below. "Well," he drew out, trying to decide whether or not he should, "it _is_ hot."

The Doctor backed out and was gone in a matter of instance. Raylan looked over his shoulder to see him go, while Boyd's icy glare never left the car, folling it out of the drive.

"So's not to catch your indecision, I think I'mma stand over near her," Boyd drawled, dragging on his cigarette. He gave a whoop and a holler, pulling his wife-beater over his head, then swinging it around in the air like a lasso. He skipped off to take his place next to June.

June put her hand on her hip, crooking her arm out for Boyd link his through; which he did, tucking his tanktop into the back pocket opposite his gloves. She extended her other hand with an open palm, face-up, towards Raylan, "C'mon, Raylan. . . What you said 's good as a 'yes' anyhow."

Raylan rolled his eyes and hesitated before raising his arm up and slowly approaching June and Boyd. He put his hand into hers once close enough, then slid it down her arm, linking his arm with hers as Boyd had on her other side.

"C'mon, ya'll, we'll take my truck to Dranger's duckpond," Boyd told them, starting off and pulling the two of them with him.


End file.
